


10.12

by bonebo



Series: Kinktober '16 [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub, Less porny than intended but oh well, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8275163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: Jesse McCree's never been so excited to show up for a lesson in all his life.   kinktober 12 - Master/slave





	

Jesse’s never been so excited to show up for a lesson in all his life.

He stands outside the door to the Strike Commander’s private quarters with his fist raised, hesitating--he sucks in a quick breath to ready himself and then rapidly knocks, chewing on his lip as he waits for an acknowledgement from within. He fidgets restlessly, rubbing his fingers along the brim of his hat and adjusting the hem of his shirt, starts to think that maybe he’d been set up--

But then the door opens, and Morrison is there--all casual in baggy grey sweatpants and a white tank top, hair ruffled and wild. He has a friendly, easy grin on his face, something entirely different than his usual stoic Commander appearance; it lights him up in a way Jesse’s never seen before, makes the lines of his face less severe. 

“Hey, Jesse.” Jack’s voice is softer without the bark of orders driving it, without a microphone at his throat or the filter of a helmet. It makes Jesse’s stomach flutter. “Come in.”

The man has led the world against the worst war of the modern era, has dozens of cameras trained on his face on the daily, has more secrets and power than Jesse will ever know--and he steps aside to usher Jesse into the room like he’s been invited over to watch a ballgame.

The first thing that strikes him is how spacious everything is. There’s a large couch to his right and a desk in the corner, cluttered but in a tidy sort of way--the Jack Morrison brand of organized--and a closed door, on the other side of the room. Coming from the overcrowded and decrepit outposts of Deadlock, Jesse’s bunk at Blackwatch base had seemed grandiose; but as he stands and looks around Morrison’s quarters, at the shining hardwood floor and the bright lights, all the grumbling he’s heard from Reyes about inequalities seems a little more than just bitter complaining.

Speaking of--

“Where’s Commander Reyes?” Jesse looks up at Morrison with a sudden rush of nervousness, realizing that it’s just the two of them; and though he wouldn’t exactly complain about having the Strike Commander all for himself, he had come into this with the expectation of someone else being the center of their combined attentions. 

The smile that Morrison gives him is wry.

“Gabe’s….getting ready for us,” he explains airily, turning away to walk toward the door--the bedroom, Jesse realizes. He’s so caught up in staring at Morrison’s ass as he walks away that he almost misses the Strike-Commander’s vague gesture toward the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll go get him.”

Jesse nods so quickly he makes himself lightheaded.

He sinks onto the plush couch and waits, nervousness churning his stomach; and just when the anxiety is starting to urge him to leave, telling him this isn’t real, he hears the door open again. He looks up and feels his breath catch.

There’s Morrison, that same easy grin on his face--but behind him is Reyes, with a glinting metal bit between his teeth and a black collar tight around his throat, following the pulls on the leash in Morrison’s hand. He looks like he’s walked right out of a wet dream, wearing nothing but a dark flush and a pair of sheer blue panties that cling to his wide hips; the thin fabric cradles his cock and heavy balls in a way that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Jesse’s on his feet before he even realizes it, fixated on this new, lewd, vulnerable side of his Commander.

“The bit was my decision,” Morrison says mildly, leading Reyes to meet Jesse in the middle of the room. He presses two fingers to Reyes’s shoulder--a silent command--and Reyes turns in a slow circle, letting Jesse see every side of him, every angle of his submission. “He’s a biter, if not handled properly.”

 _Properly._ Jesse tears his gaze away to meet Morrison’s again. “And...you’re going to teach me how to handle him, sir?”

Morrison laughs at that, reaching up to card his fingers through the short-cropped curls atop Reyes’s head; Reyes seems to melt into his touch a little, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as he presses into Morrison’s hand. It’s a tender, intimate touch, a trade of trust between them--and Jesse almost feels like he’s intruding, until Morrison’s eyes dart over to his, bright with enthusiasm.

“Jack,” he says, his fingers turning to a vice grip in Reyes’s hair, wrenching him down to the floor. ”Right now, Gabe’s the only one who’s supposed to call me sir.” His voice has changed, again--to something steely and sharp, so firm that Jesse has half a mind to drop to his knees, too. 

“Isn’t that right, Gabe?”

Reyes nods quickly, his mouth working around the bit; making messy little noises, dripping drool down onto the meaty curves of his pecs. Jack grins and lets go, suddenly--pulls his fingers out of Reyes’s hair and drops his leash, takes a few steps back to lean against the desk nearby.

“Go on, then.” He crosses his arms, watching Reyes expectantly. “Show Jesse what a good boy you can be.”

There’s tension, for a moment. Reyes stays on his knees and stares at Jack, and Jack calmly stares back; and Jesse stands in the middle with the most awkward, hardest boner of his life.

“Gabriel.” Jack’s voice holds a warning, and he starts to rise--but then the moment shatters, and Reyes looks away, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Jesse watches, transfixed, as his Commander crawls to him on all fours; and when Reyes’s hands come up to settle on his thighs, when Reyes leans forward to nuzzle at Jesse’s tented crotch, he could swear he’d died and gone straight to heaven.

“Touch him, Jesse,” Jack urges, relaxing a little more against the desk and letting his legs fall open. “Be good to my boy, and he’ll be good to you. Right, Gabriel?”

Reyes nods, face still tucked up against the groin of Jesse’s jeans and rubbing over the erection that strains through the denim like he's starving for it. Jesse's fingers find their way into his dark curls, cautious, and Reyes moans behind his bit, tongue lolling out to drool over Jesse’s crotch.

It’s the hottest thing Jesse’s ever seen. He feels close to cumming already.

He changes his grip in Reyes’s hair and grinds himself against his Commander’s face; he’s going to cum in his jeans and he’s totally okay with that, he’ll walk back out of this base with cum tacky in his boxers if it means he gets to stare down at his Commander’s hooded eyes and watch him drool over his crotch. 

“Jesse. Stop.”

...or not.

It takes everything he has to force his hips still and look over at Jack’s command, and he licks his lips as he finds the Strike-Commander with a hand over his own groin, squeezing and readjusting and making Jesse’s mouth water. 

“Stand him up,” Jack says, a raspy edge to his voice; Jesse grins as he pulls Reyes to his feet, absurdly pleased to see he’s not the only one getting affected by Reyes’s enthusiasm. Jack looks between them--at Jesse’s awkward, wide stance and Reyes’s restless movements, the way his leash dangles down his chest--and grins faintly.

“Play with his nipples.”

Reyes makes a noise like he’s been shot--not that Jesse has time to linger on it, because with the Strike-Commander’s explicit permission to touch he’s surging forward, grabbing at the generous muscle of Reyes’s chest and kneading. Reyes all but collapses in his arms, his teeth grinding on the bit as Jesse’s fingers circle and tease his nipples, flick gently over the barbells pierced into them. 

And just when it’s getting good--when Reyes has dug his fingers into Jesse’s shoulder, closed his eyes--when the front of his panties are straining to contain his cock, darkened with a glistening spot of precum soaking into the fabric--

“No, Jesse.” 

Jack shrugs off the desk and walks over, gently brushing Jesse’s hands away and ignoring Reyes’s whine, Jesse’s faint scowl. His gaze settles on Reyes’s face--taking in his blown pupils and the sweat beading along his brow, the dark flush high on his scarred cheeks--and he grins as he explains, “Don’t be so gentle--just pull them. Like this.”

Jack’s fingers find Reyes’s nipples and tug, twisting them back and forth--and Gabriel howls into the bit, arching into Jack’s fingers and throwing his head back, responsive as a live wire. Jesse watches, enraptured, as Jack continues to toy and tease over the pierced nubs, playing Gabriel and controlling his movements like he would an instrument or a favorite toy.

“He’s a shameless nipple slut,” Jack says, voice warm and fond; he finally releases Gabriel’s flesh, and the Blackwatch Commander sags back against him heavily, shoulders heaving in mighty pants for air. “And he likes the pain. If I’d thought about it, I would’ve brought his clamps and chain...next time, I guess. For now, you’ll just have to use your hands and learn.” 

_Next time._

Jesse can hardly wait.


End file.
